


Solo and the City

by robinwritesallthethings



Series: Crossovers [2]
Category: Sex and the City (TV), The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Image, Crossover, Drinking, F/M, Language, Makeover, Mention of Panic Attacks, Napoleon Drives Fancy Cars Because Of Course He Does, Romance, Self-Insert, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28703058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinwritesallthethings/pseuds/robinwritesallthethings
Summary: Robin Ballard is a novelist who’s just moved to New York City at the behest of her publicist, Samantha Jones. At a party Samantha throws to introduce her to some of the city’s elite, she meets sex columnist Carrie Bradshaw and is very pleased to be added to her and Samantha’s circle of friends. She also meets Napoleon Solo, New York’s hottest up and coming actor. When he asks for her phone number, she’s so shocked that she actually gives it to him, and they begin a romance neither of them ever expected.
Relationships: Carrie Bradshaw/John "Mr. Big" Preston, Napoleon Solo/Original Female Character(s), Napoleon Solo/Robin Ballard (robinwritesallthethings)
Series: Crossovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100003
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows the original timeline of _Sex and the City_ , which began in 1998. However, I am taking some liberties with trends, particularly fashion and restaurants, to make the research portion of writing this much easier. So let’s just assume that this is a universe in which Napoleon Solo exists as an actor and some things existed earlier than they do in ours. Okay? Okay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin meets Napoleon at a party welcoming her to New York City.

**New York City, 1998**

Robin Ballard stood by the bar, a fresh gin and tonic in one hand, smiling as the man standing next to her told her a joke. She’d been prepared to throw her head back in false laughter, so she was pleasantly surprised when his joke was actually funny and she genuinely laughed, the sound echoing joyously through the party.

Napoleon Solo’s head snapped up as he heard it, so fast that he almost spilled his dirty martini down the front of his tailored three-piece suit. He swiveled his head, trying to locate the source of the laughter.

When his eyes landed on her, they widened in surprise. He recognized her from the poster that had been by the door when he’d entered the room. This was her party.

She was even more beautiful in person. In the picture on the poster, she’d looked nervous, like she wasn’t comfortable having her photo taken. She was still a little tense here in her spot by the bar, but she was much more natural.

He stayed still for a moment and just stared at her, wanting to take in every detail that he could before he approached her. It was more than likely that she knew who he was, and if she was like every other woman he’d talked to recently, she’d change instantly when he introduced himself.

He found himself fervently hoping that she wouldn’t be like that. There was something about her that drew him in immediately, like a moth to a flame.

Her light brown hair was piled on top of her head in a loose bun. Several tendrils had either been left loose on purpose, or had escaped to frame her sweet, round face. She had big hazel eyes, an adorable nose with a swoop at the end of it, and full pink lips.

She was short, almost a foot shorter than him, he was guessing. And she had curves everywhere, which the dress she was wearing drew maximum attention to. She was all rounded hips and thick thighs and soft stomach, and it was topped off by the most exquisite pair of breasts he’d ever seen. They were incredibly full, and her cleavage was practically spilling out of her neckline.

Most people at this party would probably call her overweight, but he thought she was perfect.

He remembered that the party was to welcome her to New York. He would have been able to tell that she wasn’t from around here even if he hadn’t known that. Her hair was neat, but not styled. She wasn’t wearing any make-up besides lip gloss, and her ears, neck, wrists, and hands were devoid of jewelry. Her dress, while gorgeous on her, wasn’t made by any recognizable designer. And, perhaps most telling of all, she was wearing glasses with thick black frames and flats, which was how he’d been able to see how tall she really was.

He took a glance at his watch and grimaced. He had to leave soon, so if he wanted to talk to her, it was now or never. She didn’t seem like the type to attend the events he was usually invited to, so it was likely that he’d never see her again after this unless he got her number.

He downed half of his martini and started making his way over to her. He hoped he looked decent. He didn’t have time to find the men’s room in this place and check.

He slid into the open spot beside her at the bar and gave her his most dazzling smile. She smiled back at him reflexively and he saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. It took everything he had not to let his smile die immediately as he waited for her to start fawning over him.

But she didn’t. When he didn’t say anything, she just looked down nervously and bit her lip before taking a sip of her drink.

“My apologies,” he quickly covered for himself. “I’m Napoleon Solo. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and welcome to New York.”

She looked back up at him, her eyes sparkling. “You hardly need an introduction, Mr. Solo,” she replied politely. “I’m Robin Ballard. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, and thank you for the welcome. I greatly enjoyed your last film. The helicopter sequence was incredible. Very visually dynamic. And it was fun to see you play the villain for once. You’re very talented.”

He blinked in surprise. He was used to most women talking about the bathroom fight sequence in that movie and how good his ass looked during it. Her compliment was sincere, and very refreshing.

“Thank you,” he told her, feeling his cheeks heat self-consciously. “You’re very kind.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to watch your show yet,” she apologized. “I’ve heard it’s very good as well.”

“I think we’ve found our stride,” he agreed humbly. “We’ve been renewed for a second season, so I’ll get to explore the character more. Hopefully there will be other seasons after that.” He took another slug from his martini. “But this is your party. We should be talking about you, not me.”

She blushed. He liked that he could see the actual color bloom in her cheeks, since she wasn’t wearing anything to cover it up. “I’m afraid there’s not much to talk about,” she disagreed honestly. “I’m not nearly as exciting as this party implies.”

“You’re an author?” he wondered. “I’m afraid I haven’t read any of your books. I’ll have to pick some up on my way out. What do you write?”

“Romantic suspense would be the best description. Sort of thriller meets romance with a decent amount of sexy scenes thrown in.”

She took another drink to attempt to hide another blush. “They sound interesting,” he assured her, licking his lips as he decided to go for broke. “Listen, I have to go, but can I have your number? So I can let you know what I think once I’ve done some reading?”

Her head snapped up. She looked shocked, and after a few moments of silence, she finally stammered, “Of… of course.”

She opened her purse and took out a business card and a pen, writing something on the back before she handed it to him. “My personal number,” she explained. “The front number will get you in contact with my publicist.”

“Thank you.”

He slipped the card into his inside jacket pocket and drained the rest of his martini, setting his empty glass down on the bar.

Robin tilted her head to the side, and the words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Can I have your olive?”

“Pardon?” he clarified, caught off guard by the question.

“Your olive,” she repeated, gesturing at his glass. “Can I have it?”

“Oh,” he finally realized what she meant. “Of course.”

He picked up the toothpick and held it out to her. She took it and gently plucked the olive off of the end with her teeth, chewing it and swallowing it.

He swallowed himself, his throat suddenly tight. He straightened his tie, already haunted by the sight of her full pink lips wrapped around the little green orb.

It made him think about her wrapping them around something else. Something which was threatening to get hard in his pants and make for a very interesting photo op for the press when he left here if he wasn’t careful.

“Enjoy the rest of your party, Ms. Ballard. We’ll talk again soon,” he promised.

“Thank you, Mr. Solo,” she murmured faintly, her eyes following him briefly as he left the party.

She stood entirely still for almost a minute, not sure what had just happened. When she came back to herself, she quickly downed the rest of her drink and tried to collect her thoughts.

She was interrupted by the reappearance of her publicist, Samantha Jones, who had escorted her into the party and introduced her to quite a few people before vanishing.

“Robin, darling, there you are! I have to introduce you to my fabulous friends.”

Shortly after, Robin found herself surrounded by women. She shook hands as Samantha told her their names.

“This is Miranda Hobbes, Charlotte York, and Carrie Bradshaw. Everyone, this is Robin Ballard. I represent her because she writes the most amazing sexy novels. She’s moving to New York to be closer to her publisher, and I think it’s going to be great for her work and her image.”

“Samantha’s being kind about my books,” Robin joked, but she was beaming, which gave away how proud she was. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet all of you. Samantha has told me so much. She sent me your columns, Carrie, as an introduction to the city dating scene, and I just loved them all.”

Carrie beamed back at her. “Oh, that’s so kind of you. We’ll have to exchange writer tips and tricks with each other now that you’re here.”

“Of course. I’d like that.”

“Where are you living?” Miranda asked as she got everyone fresh drinks from the open bar. “Have you found a place yet or are you in a hotel?”

“I found a place on East 85th,” Robin revealed. “I really like it. It’s a bit empty right now. I need to do some furniture shopping.”

“Oh, I love decorating!” Charlotte exclaimed. “If you want some help, I know all the best places.”

“I would love some, thank you,” Robin accepted the offer graciously. “Once I have something for you all to sit on, I’d love to have you over for dinner.”

“Oh, how fun!” Charlotte continued. “Will anyone else be coming? How many people do you know in the city so far?”

“Not many,” Robin admitted.

“Well, you should come with us to Miranda’s birthday party tomorrow,” Carrie decided. “We’re going for dinner and dessert and tons of dating talk.”

“Speaking of,” Samantha drawled, slipping an arm through Robin’s as Charlotte helped Miranda distribute drinks, “I thought I saw you talking to Napoleon Solo. He is so hot right now.”

“His ass looked fantastic in his last movie,” Miranda chimed in. “That alone was worth the price of admission.”

“Miranda!” Charlotte chided her as Carrie giggled.

Miranda shrugged. “What? It’s true.”

“So, did you get his number?” Samantha prodded Robin.

“No,” Robin answered, “but I gave him mine when he asked for it. He said he’d call me after he’d read some of my books.”

“But now he has all the power,” Charlotte immediately disapproved.

Robin laughed, falling into easy conversation with the women. “He had it all to begin with, Charlotte. I was never going to ask for his number. I am way out of his league, and besides, he’s a celebrity. It’s a huge privacy issue to ask for his number.”

“Out of his league?” Charlotte repeated. “But you’re so pretty.”

“I love the way I look, Charlotte,” Robin reassured the woman. “But he is a movie star. And not just any movie star. One of the most attractive movie stars out there. I’m not that hot.”

“Well, you never know,” Carrie pointed out. “He might call. And if he does, you have to let me know.”

“For your column?” Robin teased. “Absolutely.”

Samantha raised her glass and the others followed suit. “To five fabulous single ladies in New York City!” she crowed.

They all clinked and laughed. Robin had never felt more comfortable all night. For the first time, it seemed like a real possibility that New York could be her home.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin attends Miranda’s birthday party and is surprised when Napoleon actually calls her.

“So what do you ladies usually talk about when you get together?” Robin asked as they were seated at a table to celebrate Miranda’s birthday.

“Dating,” Carrie answered immediately.

“The latest trends,” Charlotte added.

“Our careers,” Miranda said pointedly, making Robin laugh.

“And sex,” Samantha finished. “Lots and lots of sex. Of course.”

“So we need the lowdown on you,” Carrie started. “Where’d you come from? What are you doing here? All that.”

Robin nodded. “Well, I grew up in Michigan, and I lived there until I moved here recently. I always wanted to be a writer, and I got lucky early on with finding an agent who is amazing and really got my career started. I’ve written fifteen books so far, and they’ve all done well. I hired Samantha at the request of my publisher. They and she think that living in the city will give me some street cred, so to speak. I write romantic thrillers, and they usually involve fashion, glamour, and intrigue, so the closer I am to it, the better. I’m a bit nervous, but more excited.”

“Well, consider us your guides to anything and everything New York,” Carrie offered.

“I’m game,” Robin agreed. “So let’s dive into the conversation as if I was always here.”

“Okay,” Carrie began as everyone looked over their menus. “So, this week I’m writing about how no one seems to want to fall in love anymore, especially men.”

“Have you ever been in love, Robin?” Charlotte chimed in.

Robin shook her head. “No, not yet.”

“Charlotte is our eternal optimist,” Miranda explained. “She believes all of us are destined to fall in love one day.”

“Not this gal,” Samantha disagreed. “What about you, Robin? What do you think?”

Robin shrugged. “I’ve never really thought about it, I guess. I’ve been out on plenty of dates and had lots of sex, but I’ve been so busy with my career, and no one really struck me as worth keeping.” She paused. “Does that sound awful?”

“Yes!” Charlotte responded immediately, making everyone else laugh.

“No,” Samantha and Miranda replied in unison.

“I don’t think so,” Carrie landed somewhere in the middle. “I mean, sometimes I think we worry so much about milestones like getting married and having kids that we jump the gun, you know? Shouldn’t we hold out for someone who makes us so happy that we just end up wanting those things, rather than trying to find someone to make those things happen?”

“But what about our biological clocks?” Charlotte pressed. “Women can’t wait forever to have kids like men can.”

“Just because men can doesn’t mean they should,” Miranda pointed out.

“Agreed.” Robin nodded. “Besides, there are other ways to build a family, like adoption. You shouldn’t do something just because you feel like you’re running out of time, like Carrie said. You should do it when it’s right for you.”

“Absolutely,” Samantha joined in. “And if it’s never right for you, that’s fine.”

“Settling is the worst,” Miranda continued. “Why should we settle?”

“I wouldn’t,” Robin declared.

“Easy for you to say,” Carrie teased. “You’ve got hot actors hitting on you.”

“Oh, please.” Robin rolled her eyes. “He didn’t hit on me. And he hasn’t called, so if he was, he must have changed his mind.”

“But he’s an actor,” Charlotte reminded her. “He’s very busy. He might just not have had time to call yet.”

“I checked with your publisher after the party,” Samantha revealed. “He bought a copy of every single one of your books.”

“Well, then he has some good reading ahead of him,” Robin responded, “but that doesn’t mean he’s going to call.”

“Are our expectations too high?” Carrie mused. “If we’re not going to settle, we can’t afford to be too picky, right?”

“Aren’t those the same thing?” Miranda wondered.

Carrie tilted her head to the side. “Huh. Maybe.”

“If I were looking, I’d want someone I can be honest with,” Robin decided. “And who’s honest with me. Someone I can trust completely, who loves me for me and doesn’t want me to change.”

“Honey, you sound like a teen magazine,” Samantha observed.

They all laughed, taking a quick break to put in their orders as the waitress came by.

“Well, I think that’s nice,” Charlotte acknowledged. “But he has to be other things too. Handsome, intelligent, cultured, well-mannered.”

“List of eligible bachelors is getting smaller and smaller,” Carrie joked.

“The bigger problem,” Miranda informed them, “is that men are threatened by successful women. And everyone at this table is a very successful woman.”

“Would you trade your success for a man?” Robin challenged them all. “Give up your career if he asked you to?”

“I like you. You’re going to fit in perfectly.” Samantha winked at her. “And fuck no.”

“I’ll second that,” Miranda said next.

“Thirded,” Robin agreed. “I love what I do. I wouldn’t give it up.”

“I would, if it was the right thing,” Charlotte announced primly. “Like to raise a family.”

“You can raise a family and work,” Miranda protested drily. “Most people have to.”

“How much money does he make?” Carrie asked. “I mean, if he can’t keep me in shoes, I’ll have to keep working.”

“Speaking of which,” Samantha changed topics, “Robin, we need to give you a New York City makeover. What do you say?”

“Oh, I love makeovers!” Carrie clapped her hands. “Let me do it! Please?”

Robin looked around the table. “Should I be scared?”

“Very,” Miranda deadpanned.

“We have to get you something before Chaos opens,” Carrie proclaimed. “It’s going to be so much fun, and we’re all going.”

“What the hell?” Robin shrugged. “Charlotte is helping with my apartment, and Carrie can help with my wardrobe.”

“Yes!” Carrie crowed in victory. “I hope you’ve got money to burn.”

“She’s got plenty,” Samantha promised. “She just didn’t have anything to spend it on up in dreary Michigan.”

“You all act like being anywhere but New York City is the worst thing in the world,” Robin giggled, not offended at all.

“That’s because it is!” Carrie stated definitively.

The others agreed in a chorus and Robin shook her head. She knew when she was outnumbered.

By dessert, they’d changed topics again and were talking about Samantha’s theory that women could have sex like men for the first time in history.

“I suppose that’s true,” Robin conceded. “I mean, if you have sex and it doesn’t particularly matter to you if you do again, or if you get married after, that’s the whole thing, right?”

“So you’ve just never had or wanted a relationship?” Charlotte wondered incredulously.

“It’s not that,” Robin argued. “I’ve had relationships. Just not any that ever came with the understanding of a long future together. On my side, anyway.”

“Then you’re definitely ready for New York,” Samantha told her. “You’re already having sex like a man. You’ll fit right in.”

Before they all went their separate ways, Robin promised to meet Carrie the next day for a massive wardrobe shopping excursion, and Charlotte the day after that to furnish and decorate her apartment.

As she walked back into that apartment, her phone rang and she hurried to grab it. “Hello?”

“I’m glad I caught you, Ms. Ballard,” a smooth voice greeted her. “It’s Napoleon Solo.”

For a moment, she was so stunned that she couldn’t speak. Then she shook her head and lifted herself up onto the counter.

“Hello, Mr. Solo. Please, call me Robin.”

“Only if you call me Napoleon,” he bargained.

“Deal.”

“I was wondering if you might be going to the opening of Chaos this week?”

“I’ve been invited by some friends, so I suppose I am.”

“I was hoping you might want to meet up with me there, though I don’t want to take you away from your friends.”

“You want to meet up with me at Chaos? Why?”

She immediately grimaced at herself, dropping her head into her hand.

“Oh. Um.” Napoleon hesitated for a moment, clearly not expecting the question. “Well, I want to get to know you better. I’ve started reading one of your books and it’s amazing. And, uh, you… you have the most enchanting laugh. I heard it at the party. That’s why I came to find you at the bar.”

“It was?”

It was an odd but sweet answer. She smiled, swinging her feet back and forth as she pressed the phone closer to her ear.

“It was, Robin,” Napoleon confirmed. “I would very much like to hear it again.”

She answered before she could overthink it. “Well, I’d very much like to let you hear it, then.”

“Really?”

He sounded surprised, though she couldn’t imagine why. He had to be used to positive responses.

“Really,” she assured him.

“I’m greatly looking forward to it,” he confessed.

Suddenly she could perfectly picture his charming, boyish smile. She also realized how much she wanted to see it in person again.

“So am I. Are you going to be there at a particular time, or will we just find each other?”

He chuckled. “You’ve never been to a New York club opening, have you?” he teased. “I’ll find you. I’ll just listen for your laugh.”

She blushed, very glad that she was alone. “All right, Napoleon.”

“Listen, I have to go. I’m working. But I really can’t wait to see you again, Robin. Have a good week.”

“You too,” she murmured.

The line clicked and he was gone. She hung up the phone and stared at it curiously.

She had no idea how any of this was going to turn out, but she was more than willing to explore it.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin goes on her first date with Napoleon.

That Friday, Robin stood in her newly decorated apartment’s master bathroom to check her appearance one more time before heading downstairs to meet Carrie, Miranda, and Samantha.

She was more than satisfied with how the apartment had turned out. She had replaced all of her old furniture, gotten every kitchen tool she could ever possibly need, and ended up with a lot of art she would never have picked out herself, thanks to Charlotte’s great eye.

What she wasn’t sure she was satisfied with just yet was her new wardrobe. Carrie had pushed, and Robin had let her get adventurous in the clothing department, but she had put her foot down about several things. Specifically, no heels, no contacts, and no changing her hair. She had put a few minor restrictions on make-up as well. She didn’t want anything too ostentatious.

She was determined to find her own style in terms of putting together her outfits, though Carrie had definitely given her all the right pieces.

She had to admit that she looked good as she stared at herself in the mirror. She’d been nervous about wearing a strapless dress, but Carrie had showed her that as long as it fit and she had the right bra, she didn’t need to worry about it falling down. Hers was a lovely, buttery yellow, and the skirt’s edge was decorated with several inches of lace in a rose pattern.

She had decided to pair the dress with an ostentatious pair of earrings with pendants in the shape of strawberries. Hanging beneath them were the trademark combined Gs of the Gucci logo, and then long strands of red crystal beads. Her make-up was very subtle, done in tones of pink and gold. Her hair was up in its usual bun, her glasses were on, and she felt ready.

She headed back into her walk-in closet and selected a pair of white Louboutin flats and a coral Chanel clutch, then headed downstairs.

As she exited her building, she saw Carrie waiting by a cab. The woman waved at her and then squealed loudly. “You look amazing!” she told Robin. “My baby is all grown up and wearing designer labels!”

Robin laughed and smiled. “Really? I made good choices?”

“Definitely,” Carrie assured her. “Come on! Let’s go!”

Chaos was packed, just as Robin had anticipated. Miranda was on a date with someone Carrie had fixed her up with, Samantha was looking for a date, and Carrie was just checking out the crowd to see who she could see.

She’d said something to Robin before heading off in a different direction that made her laugh. Right on cue, Napoleon Solo appeared at her side, smiling broadly at her.

She smiled back just as someone bumped into her, lurching her toward him. He caught her, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist as hers automatically went around his neck.

“Whoa,” he murmured, blushing, his smile suddenly shy. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “No apology necessary. If having a beautiful woman tumble into my arms is the worst thing that happens to me tonight, I’ll take it.”

It was her turn to blush. “Thank you, Napoleon.”

“You’re welcome, Robin. Can I get you a drink?”

“Please.”

She adjusted her glasses as he led her to the bar, keeping one arm around her waist. He was so tall and broad that the position naturally pressed her against his chest. Even if she hadn’t seen his body in his movies and photos, she would have been able to tell how fit he was from this.

He moved up to the bar and glanced down at her. “What would you like?”

“A Maraschino French 75 with extra cherries, please,” she requested.

He ordered that and a dirty martini. Once they had their drinks, he steered her over to some booth seating, holding her hand while she slid in and then sliding in beside her, pressing right up against her again.

She grabbed a cherry from her drink and popped it into her mouth, pulling the stem off before she started chewing. Napoleon swallowed and loosened his tie slightly, once again entranced by the sight of something between her lips. He found that the cherry was even more provocative than the olive.

“So how has your time in New York been so far, Robin?” he wondered.

“Very nice, Napoleon. I decorated my apartment and went shopping for a whole new wardrobe.”

“I see that.” He raised a finger and gently touched one of her earrings. “I could almost mistake you for a New York woman now.”

“Stuck out like a sore thumb before, didn’t I?” she laughed.

He nodded. “For all the right reasons, I might add,” he revealed.

She bit her lip self-consciously. “Do you not like the changes I’ve made?” she asked, then mentally kicked herself for sounding vulnerable and less than confident in her own choices.

“I like them very much,” Napoleon reassured her. “But I’m glad the woman I met initially is still visible as well.”

He ran a finger along the temple of her glasses on one side. “A truly fashionable New York woman wouldn’t be caught dead in glasses on a date,” he observed.

“Are we on a date, Napoleon?” she replied coyly, taking a sip of her drink. “And I’m aware. Or in flats. But, hey…” She tilted her shoe to the side so he could see the red sole and he grinned. “I made sure they were stylish.”

“I thought we were,” he decided casually. “Do you not want to be?”

“I never said that.”

She glanced around them and suddenly realized how many people were staring. Most of the women, and some of the men, were looking rather hungrily at Napoleon. A few were waving or calling his name to attract his attention, but he wasn’t giving it to them.

He was giving her his complete and undivided attention, despite the fact that she could tell from her brief visual sweep that almost all of the women here were objectively more gorgeous than her.

Suddenly, his fingers were under her chin and he was turning her head back to him. “Don’t worry about them,” he told her softly. “They’re just jealous that I’m with the most beautiful woman here.” Before she could protest, he shook his head. “You can’t argue with the truth.”

She shook her head at him, but didn’t say anything. He winked at her and then added, “So how does life in the city suit you?”

“Well, there’s certainly more to do here than there was where I came from. I feel like it will take me forever to see everything. I like that I can get anything delivered at any time, of course, and I also like that I don’t have to drive. Driving gives me panic attacks.”

He frowned briefly and she wondered if she shouldn’t have mentioned it. Some people assumed that it meant she had other unexplored problems.

But Napoleon didn’t seem to share that opinion. “Well, we can’t have that,” he declared. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the amenities, and it sounds like you’ve made some friends.”

“I have,” she agreed. “We’ve been out a few times so far. They’re all around somewhere occupying themselves.”

“And what do you and your new friends talk about?”

She recalled Miranda’s birthday party. “Dating, the latest trends, our careers, and sex,” she explained concisely, giggling at the memory.

“Oh my,” he teased. “How scandalous.”

“It’s all very deep, I assure you,” she joked back.

“Give me an example,” he requested.

“Well, this week we talked about how people don’t want to fall in love anymore, and about how men are threatened by successful women.”

This would be an interesting test. She didn’t know how serious he was about her, or how serious she was about him, but his response to her comment might easily nip anything developing in the bud.

“Well, it’s a shame your friends think no one wants to fall in love anymore,” he said heavily. “I’m not much for casual dating and sex myself. I’d like to fall in love, get married, and start a family.”

She blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “Really. As for successful women,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at her, “I appreciate a woman who knows what she wants and works hard for it.”

“Very good, Napoleon.”

“Thank you, Robin.” He took another drink and then eyed her curiously. “What about you?”

“Am I threatened by my own success? No.”

She smirked at him and he rolled his eyes affectionately. “Do you want to fall in love? Get married? Start a family?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered truthfully, looking down into her drink. “It occurred to me this week that I haven’t really thought about that much. I’ve been so busy working.”

“The price of success,” he observed. “All the money to do the things you want, but no time left for them.”

He went quiet, and before she could stop herself, Robin asked, “Will you not date someone who isn’t sure about what they want in the future, Napoleon?”

Shockingly, he lit up at the question, rather than seeming disturbed by it. “If I liked someone enough, I’d want to see where it went,” he confessed, reaching out and lifting one of her loose tendrils of hair back over her ear. “And I hope she’d do the same, if she wasn’t sure what she wanted yet.”

“If she decided she wanted to get married, would you want her to quit working to raise kids?”

He shook his head. “Of course not. I’d still want to work. She shouldn’t have to give up what she loves so I don’t have to. We’d compromise, of course.”

He certainly didn’t seem like any of the men Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte knew. Maybe he was something of an anomaly here in the city.

“You may not know about marriage and children yet, Robin,” he kept going, “but you must have some idea of what you want in a partner. In a relationship.”

She nodded. “I want honesty, Napoleon. Trust. And someone who likes me the way I am and doesn’t want me to change.”

“I think that sounds lovely, Robin.”

There was a long moment of bashful silence between them, and then he gestured to her empty drink. “Can I get you another?”

“I better not, since I haven’t eaten. Don’t they serve food in these places?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, not usually. Seasoned New Yorkers know to eat beforehand, or plan to eat after.”

“I didn’t get the memo,” she said ruefully, wrinkling her nose.

“Well, then if you’ll permit me, Robin, I’d love to take you to dinner. I’ll introduce you to a New York classic.”

“That sounds too intriguing to pass up, Napoleon. Let me find Carrie first, though, so she doesn’t worry about me.”

“Of course. I’ll have my driver bring the car around while you do that.”

He stood, offering his hand as she rose. She took it and smiled, then glanced around to see if she could spot Carrie. Thankfully, she saw her right away and quickly moved through the crowd to her.

“I’m leaving with Napoleon,” she said into her ear.

“Oohh, yes! You have to promise to give me all the details later.”

“I will, but don’t count on much. We’re just going to eat.”

“For now,” Carrie replied slyly, winking.

Robin thought about arguing, but she didn’t. For one, she didn’t see the point, and for another, she wasn’t entirely certain that she would say no to Napoleon if he asked her to sleep with him.

Somehow, though, she didn’t think he would. Not on a first date, anyway. Not after what he’d told her she wanted while they were sitting and talking.

She moved back to the door and looked for him, waving back when he waved at her. He offered his arm for her to hold as she joined him and she took it, letting him lead her outside to a black town car.

He opened the door for her and she got in, sliding across the seat so he could get in after. He gave the driver an intersection and then smiled. “I’m taking you to get the best classic New York hot dog there is,” he informed her.

“Oh, really?”

“Can’t be a New Yorker without having one,” he explained.

“Well, then I can hardly refuse,” she gave in, a genuine smile taking over her face.

“You have a lovely smile, Robin,” Napoleon complimented her. “It’s almost as lovely as your laugh.”

“You’re very flattering, Napoleon.”

“It’s just the truth.”

She looked around the car. “So you don’t drive either?”

“I love to drive, actually,” he confessed. “One of my indulgences is that I have several sports cars. But I have a driver for my daily activities. Often, after being on set all day, I’m quite tired, and it wouldn’t be a good idea for me to drive myself.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you’re responsible, Napoleon.”

The car slowed to a stop and the driver turned. “The usual, Mr. Solo?”

“Two, please. And whatever you’d like as well, Theodore.”

The driver nodded and got out. Napoleon smiled at Robin apologetically. “It’s easier to have him get it in case I’m recognized. It’s not so unusual or intrusive in a place like Chaos, but on the street it can be a little… haphazard.”

“I understand,” she assured him. “Well, a little. I don’t usually get recognized unless I’m at an event for authors, like a book signing or convention. But it can certainly be overwhelming when it happens, and I can only imagine that it’s worse for you.”

“You’re very kind to say so, Robin.”

The car door opened and Theodore handed him an open cardboard box. “I’m going to eat mine outside, Mr. Solo.”

“Of course, Theodore. Take your time.”

The door shut and Napoleon grinned, holding up the box. “Spicy brown mustard and sautéed onions.”

“It sounds delicious. Thank you.”

Robin took hers, holding it over the napkin as she took a bite. It wouldn’t be seemly to get mustard on a Prada dress, after all. “Mmm,” she hummed. “It’s very good.”

He nodded. “I’m glad you think so.”

They finished their food quickly. Napoleon laughed and grabbed a napkin from the box to dab some mustard from her lip as she used another to wipe her hands. He, of course, was somehow still impeccable in his very attractive pin-striped three-piece suit.

Theodore slid back into the car and glanced into the rearview mirror. “Where to, Mr. Solo?”

“May I drop you somewhere, Robin? It’s getting late and I have an early set call tomorrow.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she told him, giving her address.

“None at all,” Napoleon assured her.

It was a short drive. When they arrived, Napoleon took her hand, squeezing it and looking into her eyes hopefully. “May I see you again, Robin?”

She flushed slightly. “I’d like that, Napoleon.”

He beamed at her. “Wonderful. I’ll call you.”

He kissed her hand gently, and she shivered as his lips grazed her knuckles. He looked up at her, his blue eyes shining. “Have a lovely night, Robin.”

She nodded. “You too, Napoleon.”

She slid out of the car on the other side before he could get out and open the door for her, turning and waving at him over her shoulder before shutting it behind her. She got out her keys and entered the building, aware that the car didn’t leave until she was safely inside.

She went up to her apartment and changed her clothes, making herself a cup of tea and settling in to do some work before she went to bed.

But she found that she couldn’t concentrate. Instead, she kept being pulled back to what Napoleon had said.

She’d been alone for so long that it had never occurred to her to want more than what she already had. But he’d certainly made her wonder if her future could hold more than what there was.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation about models reminds Robin that she has no idea why Napoleon is attracted to her.

“They’re stupid and lazy and they should be shot on sight,” Miranda declared.

“I’ve been out with a lot of guys, and they say I am just as beautiful as a model, but I work for a living. I’m like a model who’s taken the high road,” Samantha countered, grinning.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair?” Robin chimed in as she brought the food over to where everyone was sitting in her living room.

They had all come over several hours ago and she’d given them the grand tour. They’d gushed over the extra bedroom she’d turned into her office, her grand master bathroom, her huge walk-in closet, now full of clothes, thanks to Carrie, and her fully equipped kitchen. After running through the events of the week so far, the conversation had turned to a man who had ambushed Miranda with the fact that he really only liked dating models.

Miranda’s eyes widened by the time Robin laid everything out. “You made all of this?” she clarified.

“Mmhmm,” Robin hummed. “There are chopsticks and forks, by the way.”

“You made all of this?” Miranda repeated, laughing. “I need more information.”

Robin shrugged as she sat down. “It’s not that hard. I read a lot of cookbooks and watch a lot of cooking shows. Plus I set my own schedule, so I actually have time to cook when I want to.”

“What is everything?” Charlotte asked as she grabbed a plate.

Robin pointed to each dish as she named it. “Sticky sesame cauliflower, black pepper chicken stir-fry, pork dumplings, scallion pancakes, spinach and almond salad with sesame and ginger vinaigrette, shrimp fried rice, and vegetable spring rolls. I also have green and oolong tea.”

“See,” Miranda observed, grabbing a spring roll and biting into it, “if we were models, none of us would eat any of this, and that would be a shame, because this is delicious.”

She held up the rest of the spring roll and gave Robin a thumbs up. “But you were saying we were being unfair before. I really want to hear this explanation,” she requested sincerely.

Everyone loaded up their plates as Robin talked. “I just think that models don’t have it as easy as you think they do. They get as much criticism about their appearance as other women do. Probably more than that, especially behind the scenes. And they are working for a living. Their work is modeling.”

“But the advantages given to models and beautiful women in general are so unfair it makes me want to puke,” Miranda continued, shaking her head at Robin’s assertions.

“Sweetheart, you shouldn’t say that. You are so cute,” Samantha protested.

“Cute doesn’t cut it in this town,” Miranda exclaimed. “What’s cute compared to supermodel?”

“Beauty is subjective, though.” Robin refused to give up that easily. “Just because one man finds models attractive doesn’t mean the next man does. And some men don’t date based on physical type. They base it on personality.”

“Oh, please,” Miranda scoffed. “It’s like they had a meeting and decided to only get it up for giraffes with big breasts.”

“Well, that’s not fair,” Charlotte protested. “Robin has big breasts.”

Robin snorted and almost inhaled a piece of chicken. “I do. Thanks, Charlotte.”

“She’s definitely not a giraffe, though,” Carrie interjected. “She’d be something much shorter. How tall is a gazelle?”

“I’m not coordinated enough to be a gazelle,” Robin decided.

“This is exactly my point,” Miranda persisted. “You have one of the traits, but not all of them. Therefore, you’re inferior. We should just admit that we live in a culture that promotes impossible standards of beauty.”

“Yeah,” Carrie agreed. “Except men think they’re possible.”

“I just know that no matter how good I feel about myself, if I see Christy Turlington, I just want to give up,” Charlotte admitted.

“I just want to tie her down and force feed her lard, but that’s the difference between you and me,” Miranda joked.

“What are you talking about?” Carrie asked in frustration. “Look at you two. You’re beautiful. Everyone in this room is beautiful.”

Robin nodded as Charlotte groaned. “I hate my thighs,” she confessed.

“I’ll take your thighs and raise you a chin,” Miranda offered.

“I’ll take your chin and raise you a hmm.”

Carrie made a muffled sound around a mouthful of scallion pancake as she pointed to her nose.

Samantha and Robin stayed silent. As the other women stared at them, Samantha raised her eyebrows. “What?” she wondered. “I happen to love the way I look.”

“You should,” Miranda quipped. “You paid enough for it.”

“Hey, I resent that,” Samantha fired back. “I do not believe in plastic surgery. Well, not yet.”

“What about you, Robin?” Charlotte prodded. “Is there anything you don’t like about yourself?”

“Look, I’m not saying that I’m completely confident all the time,” Robin hedged. “But I act like it, because as long as I’m happy, it shouldn’t matter. Like the whole makeover thing when I got here. I did that because I wanted to, not because I felt like I had to. And while I’m aware that I’m heavier than a lot of men like, I don’t want to let it bother me.”

“But it still does,” Carrie mused. “I find it fascinating that five beautiful flesh and blood women could be intimidated by some unreal fantasy.”

“I think,” Robin said slowly, “that it’s not just the fantasy. I think it’s the idea of compatibility. That two people who aren’t the same level of attractive can’t possibly be good enough for each other. But that’s how it is in every other area of relationships too. Money, fame. Someone always has the upper hand. It’s just a lot more noticeable if one person is way more attractive than the other.”

“Now you’re talking about Napoleon again,” Samantha teased, making Robin blush. “Do you two have another date yet?”

Robin shook her head as Charlotte sighed. “I can’t believe he kissed your hand. That’s so romantic.”

“He also dropped the wanting a family bomb on the first date,” Miranda reminded her. “That’s a lot to process.”

“Are you worried that he’s attracted to you for the wrong reasons?” Carrie wondered.

“No, no, it’s not that. I could tell he was sincere. I just… don’t understand it. He could have anyone. A model, for instance.” Robin wagged her finger at Miranda. “Or another actress. I don’t know why I stick out to him, is really what it comes down to.”

“Maybe it’s an opposites attract thing,” Charlotte suggested. “Like, he likes that you’re ordinary, you know? Not a model or an actress.”

“Robin’s hardly ordinary,” Samantha disagreed. “She’s a very famous author. She might not get mobbed when she goes out on the streets because she took her shirt off in the latest hot movie, but she’s somebody.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Robin winked at her. “I love you too. And don’t worry, I’m giving you another bonus this year. You’re amazing and I shudder to think of what my life would be like without you.”

Samantha blew her a kiss and winked back.

“I get what Charlotte is saying, honestly,” Robin revealed thoughtfully. “I mean, models and actresses have busy schedules. Two actors dating probably hardly see each other. It would be easier to be with someone with a more consistent schedule. And maybe he just wants a break from that world. The expectations on him must be just as exhausting as the ones placed on models. He has to look a certain way to get the parts he plays. He’s constantly in the public eye. I can only imagine that he’s tired of it.”

“Are you hoping he calls you again?” Miranda brought them back around to the beginning of the topic.

Robin didn’t hesitate to answer. “Yes, I hope he does. He’s sweet and honest and funny. And, not that it’s the most important thing, but the most attractive man I’ve ever seen. He’s certainly the most attractive person I’ve ever dated.”

“Well, since you don’t have any plans with him yet, how about seeing some very attractive people you haven’t dated?” Carrie offered. “I’m going to a fashion show this week. You should come.”

“Oh, count me in,” Samantha said immediately.

“Why not?” Robin gave in. “I’m embracing the whole New York experience. Let’s do it.”

“Excellent,” Carrie squealed excitedly. “I can’t wait!”

They continued eating. Robin started asking Miranda legal questions, not only to keep away from more model talk, but because she was thinking of making her next novel about a lawyer.

The rest of the night went well, and as Robin cleaned up after everyone else had gone, she realized that she was very pleased with her new friends.

She glanced at her phone. In theory, the only thing she was missing was a great boyfriend, and she was optimistic that that might be rectified soon.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin attends a fashion show and runs into Napoleon again.

“And he just… tapes them?” Robin asked incredulously. “And they don’t know about it?”

“He implied that some of them did, but I’m pretty sure he’s not tellin’ ‘em,” Carrie clarified. “If they figured it out, they did it on their own.”

“That’s gross,” Robin observed, taking a deep breath as they walked into the fashion show.

She’d felt very confident when she’d chosen her outfit in her apartment earlier. It was a little daring for her, but she’d figured there wasn’t a better place to be daring.

Now that she was here and everyone was looking in her direction, she was thinking she might have made a mistake. But she’d meant what she’d said earlier that week. She wasn’t going to let on that anyone was making her feel insecure.

She also knew she had no reason to be. She definitely looked amazing in the little Dior dress she’d selected. It was short and sleeveless, and pulled tight across her chest and bottom, which highlighted the denim effect of the navy blue fabric.

She’d chosen minimal accessories, deciding that the dress was the main event. Patterned blue velvet laced ballerina flats, a dull blue saddle bag purse with gold accents, and long gold earrings completed the ensemble.

“I’m going backstage. Into the wild,” Carrie joked.

Robin laughed. “I’ll go find Samantha and catch up with you later.”

She weaved her way through the crowd, looking for their seats and willing her dress not to accidentally slip and expose more of her than she intended to.

It was impossible not to bump into people. She turned to brush past a large group, looking back when someone grabbed her arm gently.

“Robin? How lovely to see you here.”

She found herself staring up at the smiling face of Napoleon Solo. As she stared, he began to blush, and she quickly realized that he was scanning her.

He swallowed and his hand tightened on her arm. “You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured.

It was her turn to blush as he delivered the compliment. “Thank you,” she said demurely, looking at him in return.

He was, as usual, wearing a three-piece suit, but it was a step above the others she’d seen. The color was actually similar to her dress and had a subtle wide check pattern.

“You look quite dashing yourself,” she managed to get out.

“You’re too kind,” he brushed away the praise, stepping closer to her, standing beside her so he could bend down and speak in her ear. “I didn’t expect to see you at an event like this.”

She shivered as the low hum of his voice vibrated through her. Somehow, he made every gesture feel intimate, and she liked that.

“I’m being adventurous,” she explained. “Carrie and Samantha are here too. They invited me.”

He nodded. “I’m here by invitation myself,” he admitted. “They paid me to wear the suit.”

“Well, they’re getting their money’s worth, there’s no doubt about that.”

He chuckled and added, “Somehow, the only approval that matters to me is yours.”

“I find that very flattering,” she confessed.

“I’m glad. I’m sorry I haven’t called you,” he apologized. “I’ve wanted to, but my schedule has been so hectic, and I always hesitate to make plans I might not be able to keep.”

“I’m not mad,” she assured him. “I’m looking forward to it, though.”

“Soon, I promise.” He paused, then asked, “Are you going to the party after the show?”

“Knowing Carrie and Samantha, I’m sure we are.”

“Then I’ll see you there. The show’s about to start, and I have to find my seat.”

“So do I. It was lovely to see you, Napoleon.”

He bit his lip and nodded as he stepped away. He looked wistful, like he would have rather spent time with her than anything else.

She continued through the crowd until she found Samantha and sat down with her very carefully. Carrie joined them shortly after.

Robin grew more skeptical as the show actually started. “People don’t wear things like this in public,” she pointed out.

“I would,” Samantha argued.

“Even that?”

Robin pointed to a bra that was basically made of jewelry and hid nothing and all three of them laughed.

“I saw you talking to Napoleon Solo again,” Samantha redirected them slyly.

“Oohh, tell us everything!” Carrie demanded.

“He said I look absolutely stunning,” Robin started.

“And he’s right,” Samantha interjected. “Go on.”

“And that he’ll call me soon. He hasn’t because he didn’t want to make plans and break them, since his schedule’s been so hectic lately.”

“Could be a good sign,” Carrie decided. “Let me know when he delivers, though.”

“Is he going to the party?” Samantha wondered.

Robin nodded. “He said he’d see me there.”

They turned their attention back to the models on the runway and talked about clothes for the rest of the show.

After, they headed to the party. Samantha had decided to go after Carrie’s friend who only slept with models and taped them without their consent. Robin couldn’t help feeling that it was skeevy, but Samantha knew, so at least she wasn’t going to be blindsided.

Robin had gone to the bar to retrieve drinks for her and Carrie. As she returned, she saw her talking to a tall, rather handsome man in a suit. Robin hung back until he left, then rejoined Carrie.

“Who was that?”

Carrie grimaced. “Mr. Big,” she answered cryptically.

It had to be a nickname, but Robin didn’t press further. “Do you like him?”

Carrie shook her head. “No. He’s out of my league. And he called my writing cute.”

“Ugh,” Robin agreed. “Men only do that to women’s writing. If they write a romantic thriller, it’s speculative. Yet I’m marketed as women’s fiction. Men can enjoy my books.”

“I agree.”

They both turned, smiling as Napoleon Solo joined their conversation. He beamed at Robin and Carrie raised her eyebrows, winking at her new friend.

Robin blushed as Napoleon continued. “Sorry to barge in on you. I was looking for you.”

“No apology necessary, Napoleon. This is my friend Carrie Bradshaw. Carrie, this is Napoleon Solo.”

They shook hands. “I’m familiar with your work, of course, Mr. Solo,” Carrie informed him. “You’re very talented.”

“You’re very kind,” he answered almost shyly. “I read your column, Ms. Bradshaw.”

“Oh?” Carrie was obviously surprised. “Um, would you say it’s cute?”

His brow furrowed. “Cute?” he repeated. “That’s not the word I’d use, no. Insightful is what I would say.”

“All right. I’ve decided you can keep this one,” Carrie stated.

Napoleon glanced at Robin with a sly smile. “Did you see anything you liked in the fashion show?” he asked.

Robin shook her head. “None of it was really my style.” She glanced at his empty hands. “Are you going to get a drink?”

“I tried,” he admitted, “but I couldn’t seem to catch the attention of the bartender.”

“That’s because he’s male and straight,” Robin explained, making Carrie giggle. “What do you want? I can put my tiny dress to work again and you’ll have it in no time.”

“I appreciate that, but I believe I’d rather keep you all to myself,” he confessed. “May I take you to dinner?”

Robin looked at Carrie. She didn’t want to ditch her friend again. It seemed like a poor precedent to set.

“Go,” Carrie urged her. “Have fun. I’m going to head out anyway. Big kind of killed my buzz.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

“Definitely,” she insisted. “I have a column to write about models, remember?”

Robin leaned in and gave her a hug. “I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Carrie nodded and slipped away through the crowd. Robin turned to Napoleon. “Where are we going?”

“How about another New York experience?” he suggested. “More sophisticated this time.”

He offered her his arm and she took it. “I’m game.”

He grinned and led her out of the party to his car. He’d driven one of his own tonight, and he was quite pleased to get the chance to show it off to her.

“Yours?” she asked, noticing the style of the car and the absence of a driver as he opened her door for her.

“Indeed.”

He took her hand to help her in, but she didn’t bend just yet. “What is it? I know nothing about cars, but I sense that you’re dying to tell me.”

He laughed. “It’s an Aston Martin DB7 Volante.”

“Well, Napoleon, that sounds very fancy, so I’m very impressed.”

He chuckled as she maneuvered her way into the car. “Thank you, Robin.”

He shut her door and walked around to the driver’s side, unbuttoning his jacket as he went. He’d impressed her with his car, and dinner was going to be even more impressive. He was off to a good start.


End file.
